The Five Times Quorra Told Sam That She Loved Him
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: And the one time he told her back...Stereotypical prompt mixed with an unhealthy dose of angst and lots of Sam/Quorra feels sure to start both giggles and waterworks.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this has been one reallllyyyyy long work in progress from God-knows-how-long ago...probably from when I first watched the movie about a few years ago. I think this idea sat in my journal of ideas for a while and then, when I finally decided to pull it out, it took me months to complete. Let's just say that my motivation to write anything lately has been severely lacking. It's quite depressing...but anyway, enjoy this multi-shot. It was gonna be a one-shot, but after word 11,205 I decided to break the instances into separate chapters.

It'll probably be updated once a day...maybe more if I'm impatient. I already have all 6 chapters made...

Reviews/feedback/comments/PM's are all welcome and wonderful!

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First Time: Apples

The first time she said it, it was completely innocent.

They had just gotten back from ENCOM offices. Sam had let her drive his bike back to his flat that they now shared, and she took the liberty of going as fast and as far as she wanted, regardless of what Sam or the law said. She was still used to driving on the Grid where there were no rules, and the terrain was much more streamlined. Here, it was rough with hills and valleys; each turn brought new surprises, and Quorra loved it. She laughed all the way back to the flat, and after getting over his initial shock, so did Sam.

She dismounted gracefully, taking her helmet off and whipping her hair out of her face from where it was plastered down against the wind. They both walked in together, bags of groceries and new tech hanging from their wrists. They dumped their loot on the couch, not caring where they threw down their jackets or their shoes. They'd become comfortable around each other now that they were stuck with one another, at least until Sam figured how to break her existence to Alan or someone in the outside world. But, it wasn't an inconvenient arrangement. In fact, they both enjoyed each other's company. It sure beat the hell out of being alone, something she wasn't sure she could do, and something he didn't know if he could handle at the moment.

Sitting with her legs crossed on the wooden floors of the flat, she and Sam started picking through things. Quorra explained all the technical prototypes while Sam educated her in items of the human world, like laundry detergent and food. He held up an apple in front of her, and she took it in with curious eyes. She had seen Flynn eat things like this, but they were always dried, like they had been saved for a long time, not large and new like the thing in front of her.

"What is it?" she asked, taking it from Sam and inspecting it closely. "What does it do?"

"It's an apple," he told her, loving every minute of her confusion. He constantly had to remind himself that she was still an alien to this world. "You eat it and it gives you energy."

"You have to consume this to get the energy out? How does that work?"

"I don't know…" Sam said, exasperated by her questions, though he still laughed despite himself. "Didn't you and my dad eat on the Grid? You should know how it works."

"Unlike Flynn, I did not require this food to survive. All I need is to be attached to the Grid, and it supplies me with the energy necessary for function," she explained, as if it was obvious.

"But then what about dinner that one night?" he asked, his mind flitting to the semi-painful memory of eating around his father's table on the Grid, as if nothing had changed - like he hadn't been gone for damn near twenty years - and they were all gathered there for a Sunday-night meal. It disturbed him.

"I ate to be polite," she explained, though it didn't make anything any easier to wrap his head around. "I read in one of Flynn's books that it is deemed rude to reject the hospitality of your host."

"Quorra you really are something…" Sam mused, still incredulous. She smiled up at him, her whole look beaming.

"Thank you…I think…" She went back to fiddling with her gadgets, and Sam tossed the apple in the air before handing it back to Quorra.

"Well, you're not connected to the Grid now, so you might as well try to eat something."

She looked up at him, less than amused. "I assure you Sam, I feel fine. None of my systems are weakening nor is my brain ceasing to function."

"Still, just try it. You never know, you may actually like it."

She stared him down with her bright blue eyes, still slightly suspicious of the red fruit in front of her. He couldn't help but smile as she took it back into her hands, leaning close to it to smell it. And finally, she let herself take one big bite out of the shiny crimson skin. Her eyes widened as she chewed, taking another bite, and another. She looked like a kid in a candy shop.

"See, I told you that you'd like it," Sam laughed, grinning happily at her. "Come on, I've got more."

"More apples?" she asked with excitement.

"No, but I think you may like these other things too."

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a variety of foods in so many different colors that it made her head spin. The colors of this world were all so new and exciting in so many shades and hues she never knew existed. It was still wondrous that something as simple as what humans ate could be just as beautiful.

Quorra tried food after food after food until she could no longer eat one more bite and Sam no longer had anything left in his fridge. It was worth it though, at least to Quorra. She promised him that she'd go get more in the morning, and leaned back on her stool, feeling more sluggish now that she had eaten than before.

"If this food is supposed to give energy, then why do I feel so slow?" she wondered, feeling drained and the exact opposite of energized.

"You have to give your body time to break it down...It's not an instant thing."

"Oh…well if I knew that then I wouldn't have wasted my time eating."

"It's not a waste of time. You need the energy to live. Besides, how else would you have figured out that you liked apples?"

"I really, realllyyy like apples," Quorra replied with a child's enthusiasm. "They were by far the most enticing of any of the foods I tried."

"So you love apples?" Sam concluded, laughing at her repetition.

"Love?" Quorra asked, not completely unfamiliar with the pretense of the word. She had read it before in some of Flynn's books, but was never able to fully comprehend the meaning of it. It didn't seem to have a real definition, nothing solid, all fleeting. It infuriated her, and her eyebrows knit themselves together in frustration, as if the word didn't sit well on her tongue.

"Love. You know, it's something that you like a lot, that you like above all other things."

"Hmm," Quorra thought, taking in the meaning and applying it to everything she knew. Apparently, according to Sam's definition, there were lots of things she loved. He could see her mind working up a storm inside her head, the wheels turning as she mulled everything over in that technical brain of hers.

"Yes, I love apples. I love a lot of things," she finally declared, as if making some groundbreaking statement like she thought everything was. "I love _you_ Sam."

And that last part really did throw him through a loop. He straightened up from where he was sitting across from her at the bar of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. He was just about flustered when he realized that she had taken his definition of love at face value, as she did with everything. She was boxing him in with fruit and the sunrise.

"No, loving people and loving apples is not the same thing. That's a different kind of love."

"Oh…can you explain the difference?" she asked, genuinely curious, but there was an uncharacteristic shyness to her tone that was not anything like her.

"Ah, it's…well…I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just different," he stuttered, now completely embarrassed and awkward, running his hands nervously down the back of his neck as he turned slightly away from her.

"So, I don't love you Sam?" she deduced from his silence and sudden change in behavior. She hadn't meant to upset him; she'd simply meant to pay him a compliment. She supposed she had simply misunderstood, like usual.

Her statement made him extremely relieved, and he nodded in agreement.

"No, you don't love me Quorra, I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Second Time: Signature

The second time she said it, it was completely cautionary.

It was Sam's birthday in the morning, and she was still sitting up, frozen over the piece of paper in front of her face. She was petrified, her hand frozen in place, the pen grasped tightly in-between her fingers.

She just did not know how to sign his card.

She had rented and read about ten letter etiquette books, but in the end they were all no help. All of them had said that the safest way to sign was with a '_Sincerely'_ and a signature, but she figured that she knew Sam too well and such a formal closing would make her sound a little bitchy. But, she also ran the risk of upsetting Sam again by using the more informal and intimate '_yours truly', 'your friend', _or heaven forbid_ 'with love'._ She feared that just the word love would upset him like it had before, even though she was convinced that he was wrong about the entire notion of the word when it applied to people. She had watched hours' worth of old movies and TV shows to prove it.

If only she was more confident about things like she was before. But this wasn't her home turf; this wasn't a place she knew very much about and emotions were not her forte. She had to live by Sam's rules, and his rules only gave her a headache. So, done with the worrying, she just closed her eyes and bit the bullet.

She wrote down _'Love, Quorra.'_

Sam could freak out if he wanted to. She was going to bed.

And in the morning, he opened the card and smiled. He didn't mention the signature.


	3. Chapter 3

Third Time: Performance

The third time she said it, it wasn't her idea.

She and Sam had been taking a walk in the park, and Sam was pointing out all the different animals and flowers while she tilted her head up to the sun. She loved the sun; it was one of the things she loved most about this world. There was no sun on the Grid, and the stories that Flynn told her about it did not disappoint.

They both had stopped near a bench, Sam in the middle of saying something about feeding ducks when he was little, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Quorra was worried; this was something that was not normal in human biology. But Sam was still breathing, so she followed his gaze across the park until it led her to a short brunette across the path talking animatedly to someone else.

"Shoot," Sam muttered under his breath, quickly averting his gaze from the woman.

"What is it?" Quorra could not understand the importance of this person and why she would upset Sam so much.

"Nothing, just an ex," he brushed off, stepping anxiously in place, darting his eyes quickly from where the woman stood to the ground at the park exit.

"Yes, I can see that she is female. Why does that matter?" Quorra wondered, confused as to why human genetics would cause Sam such obvious distress.

"No, I mean ex…like someone you used to date but don't anymore," Sam tried to explain, but he was just losing Quorra with each word. "Someone that I used to lov-like a lot but now I don't."

"Oh. And seeing her now is a bad thing? Because you are afraid you will upset her?"

"No, I am afraid that she still likes me."

"And that is not good?"

"No. This woman has been trying to get back with me for years. She's crazy."

"So she is a threat?"

"Yes…No…I'm not sure. All I know is that she is the last person that I want to see."

"So what do we do?" Quorra asked, treating this like a battle strategy.

"I don't know," Sam sighed, exasperated, "just don't look at her!"

Quorra was confused, seeing as though Sam could not take his eyes off of the slightly woman yet she was forbidden from even glimpsing in her direction.

"Shit!" she heard him swear loudly as he ducked his head into the collar of his jacket, as if he were trying to will himself to vanish.

Quorra chanced a glance up to see that the woman had indeed spotted them, or should she say spotted Sam, across the park and had begun frantically waving in their direction. Despite Sam's nonresponse to her far-off greeting, she soon abandoned the other woman she was conversing with to scamper over to where they were, her short heeled feet power- walking to where they stood.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!" he muttered under his breath, watching in pained vision as the woman's unnaturally perky face came into view, obviously thrilled to bits to see Sam. "What am I going to do now?"

Quorra screwed her eyebrows together, storming up a solution, weighing all the options, when something drastic hit her. She didn't have time to contemplate the consequences in her mind before she acted, turning Sam's face out of his jacket collar and facing it to hers, crashing her lips down upon his in a split-second decision.

The dead shock on the woman's face that melted her smile into a look of stricken abandon was equivalent to the shock of sheer unpreparedness and disbelief that coated Sam's. His lips were rigid against hers as she kissed him, but nothing could compare to the shock of surprise that Quorra received when she felt Sam finally kiss her back.

They stayed that way for a good few moments, their lips on each other's, barely moving for fear of the other's reaction. When they finally parted, Quorra's clear blue eyes opened to find Sam's face a locked box of conflicting emotions, all of which he was trying to clear and file away to sort through on another day. Quorra gave a slight nod of her head, too tiny for the flabbergasted woman across from them to understand, but Sam lazily nodded back, and she prayed that she hadn't royally screwed things up in thinking that this was a good idea. Luckily, Sam was level-headed enough to play along. He stared at Quorra in stunned fascination for one moment longer before the meek, peeved, and highly irked woman let out a muffled squeak of embarrassment.

Sam turned to her, and using his best surprised face, plastered on an apologetic smile.

"Nancy! Hello, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, nervously laughing as the woman followed in suit, "We didn't see you there!"

But now she was much more focused on sizing Quorra up, running her eyes nervously over her body like she was competition. Quorra thought it petty, and soon averted her gaze from the doe-eyed woman who was busying herself in patting down her bouncing curls.

"Oh, it's okay!" she stuttered nervously, her eyes still darting between the close proximity that Quorra and Sam were standing and the arm that Sam had ceremoniously snaked around Quorra's waist during the kiss and since failed to remove. "I wasn't expecting to see you here either! What a surprise…" she continued, the edge of nerves in her voice growing steadily.

"Yes! We were just taking a walk," Sam replied hastily, his voice a little hoarse from the shock but still talking in that overly energetic voice as he turned to Quorra. She could see the pleading in his eyes for her to save him, and she internally laughed at his desperation. Her lips quirked up at the ends as she was pulled forward until she was face to face with the woman, nearly towering over her by a good six inches.

"Quorra, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is Quorra, my…my…" He couldn't seem to finish the phrase, his mouth floundering for the right word.

"Girlfriend," Quorra cut in with a confident voice, saving Sam's ass once again from humiliation. "I'm Sam's girlfriend, the girl he is terribly in love with. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She stuck out her hand for Nancy to shake, but Nancy flinched back as if she were struck. When she finally composed herself long enough to breathe properly, she took the outstretched hand in her own shaking one. The woman looked like an absolute wreck, and Quorra couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for her.

"Yes, well, this has been nice...but I um, I have to get going," she announced suddenly, her eyes wide and suddenly damp around the corners. Quorra could tell that her troubles breathing were returning, but she hid them well. "Things to do and all that. Important things. I have a very busy life you know."

"Well we don't want to keep you," Sam said politely, but Quorra could sense the edge to his voice that was silently wishing her gone.

"I'll just be going now…" she said again, slowly traipsing backwards, her vision still fixed on the pair of them.

"Goodbye! It was nice meeting you," Quorra called out to her, receiving at tight-lipped smile in return.

Finally, after much waving and over-smiling, the woman vanished from sight, but Quorra had a feeling that she was still around, maybe looking on from the bushes. She seemed disturbed enough to something of the sort. Sam let out a shaky breath laced with a laugh.

"Well, that was something…" he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. Quorra laughed lightly in agreement, turning back around so that she could properly talk to Sam.

"She's most likely still out there, watching. Is that normal?"

"No, no it is not."

"I thought so."

Sam laughed a bit more before a tense silence settled around the pair, the intensity and reality of the last few minutes settling around them. Quorra was fine letting things be and fade away; she really didn't know how to explain herself to Sam. But he was curious, and broke the silence, his mouth getting the better of his restraint.

"Quorra…"

"Yes?" she asked absentmindedly, still scanning the park for the psychotic woman.

"What just happened back there?"

"What do you mean?" she asked again, her heart and head not totally there with him.

"I mean what happened? What did you do?"

"I helped you scare away unwanted attention, like we were talking about."

"No, you know what I mean. Why did you_ kiss_ me?"

Quorra snapped her head up from the ground, her attention torn from the bushes to meet Sam's seeking gaze. She was staring at him with such an intensity that he thought he could feel a burn igniting somewhere inside him, her scrutiny scrubbing away at him as her mind raced, weighing a million different responses, measuring all risks and results before sighing and settling on a less harmful one.

"The woman had to be shocked into reality somehow. She was clearly still interested in you, and I doubt that someone that obnoxious would let you go easily, and I knew that you would rather die than spend more time with her, so I cleared the air effectively and quickly. The kiss comes as an unwelcome shock and blow to the ego. She thinks you're taken and therefore she is thoroughly embarrassed by her mistake and behavior, so she runs off unlikely to return again. I was only trying to help. Forgive me if I upset you."

Quorra's words flowed through Sam, and although he understood her, he didn't quite understand why she chose to kiss him. There were a million other ways to quickly rid yourself of an ex, and kissing the next person you saw was definitely a rash method. But then again, this was Quorra he was talking about. Who knows what went on in that chaotic, technical mind of hers?

"You can thank me at any point," Quorra prompted Sam, nudging him in the ribs. The expression she wore was so stereotypically Quorra, arms wrapped around her waist, expression open in an expectant acceptance of praise. He just had to laugh.

"Maybe later, if we make it out of here alive…" Same trailed, now taking his time to scan the bushes double time. He could've sworn he had seen a patch of pink corduroy pop out from under one of the hedges, but he just could've been seeing things.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure. She has still yet to make an appearance. I fear that she may try to pounce when we try to leave."

"Mmhmmm…" Sam mused, still not totally sure where to go with her actions. One second Quorra was kissing him and the next moment it was business as usual. It was enough to make anyone's head spin. "Quorra…I-"

"Are there any apples around here? I'm hungry," she blurted, cutting off any train of thought that Sam was thinking through. It was clear that Quorra was done talking about it, and he knew that any attempt in bringing it up would be pointless. With an exasperated sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, nodding in a general direction ahead.

"Yeah, there's a farmer's market across the park," he said, reaching to take her arm as he had before. She took it gracefully, smiling politely up at him. "Let's go."

And Sam spent the rest of the afternoon lying on a blanket with Quorra, watching her eat apples and talking about nothing whatsoever.

They never saw the woman again.


	4. Chapter 4

Fourth Time: Interjections

The fourth time she said it, it was an accident.

It had been nearly a year since their little act at the park, and since then, neither one of them had even dared to bring it up. It was as if the kiss was deleted from their memories, flaring caution signs and ropes barring the information from ever coming up again. And it wasn't as if things were awkward between them; in fact, her friendship with Sam hadn't changed a bit.

But she wasn't delusional either. They both knew at some point that they would have to come out of the tiny rail car apartment they were snugly living in and face the world. He knew that he couldn't keep hiding Quorra away; she had given up her whole life on the Grid to be there with him on Earth, and it wasn't fair to lock her away in another cage like his father had. To the world, she didn't even exist. She had no paperwork or identification or anything to validate her existence, and Sam knew that sooner or later, people would notice.

He finally bit the bullet and told Alan about her. After his initial shock and then anger about Sam's secrecy, he took to Quorra in strides. In fact, he grew a strong attachment to her. Sometimes Sam would catch him glancing at Quorra with something that looked like nostalgia and sadness in his eyes, like he was trying to see something - or someone, he realized after a while - in her that he had lost. He didn't have the gall to ask Alan what though. He figured it was private, something not meant to be shared with anyone.

Strangely, Quorra was just as taken with Alan as he was with her. He regaled her with stories of the old system and Kevin Flynn, the pair comparing tales of their mysterious and fantastical friend. Sam felt slightly hurt that he couldn't share in those stories; the fact that those two knew his own father better than he did stung deeply. But Alan handled all of the legal processes that allowed Quorra to "live". She got to choose an age, same as Sam's, and a birthday that they decided should be the day she came to Earth. She was honored when Alan suggested she adopt his last name as her own, and on the official paperwork, she became his niece.

Of course, there were parts to Sam and Quorra's relationship that had to remain secret. Quorra knew she could never tell Sam that she had found a way back into the Grid, and she sure as hell knew that she couldn't let him know that she was the one helping Tron rebuild it. And if he knew that on top of all of that, that she had been taking Alan into the Grid with her, oh, she'd be a dead woman. Sam felt better about leaving Quorra on her own or with Alan; he trusted her more, and she planned on keeping it that way.

In response, she never minded where Sam went. He took a job at ENCOM that pulled him drastically away for hours and hours on end, but her lingering guilt diminished her selfish need of him. He was slowly taking back his father's company until he controlled it all as CEO. And Quorra supported him completely, always there by his side every step of the way, even when things were rough. They were always there for each other - the two of them against the world, toughing it out, regardless of the world around them.

Until he got the girlfriend.

At first, Quorra didn't know what to make of her. Her only experience with Sam's girlfriends had been Nancy at the park, and Sam made it seem like the term was a bad thing. He hadn't had one in all his time with her - over a year - so at the start of _her_ appearance in their life, Quorra was terribly confused.

"Do you want me to scare her away? Like the other one?" she asked Sam after their first encounter. She had seemed nice enough, but had a bubbly air around her that Nancy had that made Quorra think that she was a threat.

Sam only laughed a little bit, shaking his head at Quorra like she was some naïve child.

"No, she's fine. I like her Quorra, really. I hope you do too."

The look in his eyes was genuine, so Quorra tried to push her own conflicting emotions aside and focus on the woman in front of her. She supposed that the woman - Emily she believed her name was - was pretty: tall and blonde and smiled with the brightest white teeth she had ever seen. She was pleasant to be around, and when Quorra talked to her, the conversation seemed genuine, not fake like all the other insufferable people she had met since Sam's promotion. She honestly couldn't fault the woman for anything, so why did she feel like she had taken something that was hers? Why did she feel a dread knotting in her stomach every time she saw Sam and her together?

She told Sam she liked Emily, though not as much as she liked apples, and Sam looked immensely pleased and relieved. At least she had managed to say the right thing for once.

And as the months passed, Emily became a more permanent fixture in their lives, stopping by their apartment nearly every day – they had moved out of the rail car ages ago – going out on outings with the both of them, shopping for them, even spending one-on-one time with only Quorra and not Sam. And sure, it stung a little that Emily took Quorra's place at all of Sam's major events and outings, but it wasn't anything malevolent. Quorra just spent more time with Alan or threw herself into the Grid instead, something that always provided a safe haven for her.

Emily didn't seem to mind Quorra's relationship with Sam; the fact that they lived together and went places together didn't bother her at all, and Quorra was glad for it. She didn't know what she would do if Sam made her leave, not that she thought that Sam would ever force her out because of some stupid girlfriend. But honestly, Quorra genuinely liked Emily. He could've done worse. But nothing could've prepared her for what came next, bursting through the apartment doors one day while Sam was out.

They were engaged.

Emily shouted it from the rooftops. The effect was that of an atomic bomb. It leveled Quorra to the bone.

It must've taken ages for the shock to register, because Emily didn't even seem to notice that Quorra had gone rigidly still, her whole face blanching. Emily was bouncing off the sofa, giddily running through the kitchen and around the island until she sat square across from Quorra, her whole face beaming with a radiant smile. She was beside herself with happiness, and it took all of Quorra's will to not shut down.

But Emily didn't even register Quorra's existence, babbling on and on about some proposal and how romantic it was and how sweetly he asked her and a million other things that went in through one ear and out the other. Quorra had always thought that a girlfriend was a temporary thing, something to replace over time. She had never expected this; even as much as she had grown to like Emily, she was still expecting an end to her visits. And engagement? She didn't exactly know what that meant, but she had seen enough movies and enough TV to know that engagement meant marriage, and marriage meant forever.

Sam would leave her. Forever.

And her heart sank into the pits of the stomach as she stared blankly through Emily's animated face. Her only friend, the one person she cared about more than anyone she knew, more than Alan or even Flynn, was going to leave her forever. She would be alone again, just like she was when she lost the ISOs. Her throat closed in on itself, and she suddenly felt very lightheaded, claustrophobic, as if the world was too tiny and she was going to suffocate in it. She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate, and the sensation scared her just as much as the thoughts of losing Sam.

"Quorra? Quorra…are you alright?"

Emily must've finally taken notice to Quorra, her voice cutting through the violent thoughts racing through her mind. The girl's eyes were wide in concern, wondering what was going on with her friend. Quorra willed herself to calm down. This was a happy time for Emily and Sam, for everyone. Even Flynn would be happy for him, she recalled as she remembered a clip of their dinner conversation so long ago. She had to plaster on a smile, even if she was slowly dying inside. She couldn't let her irrational fears spoil Emily's happiness.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured the fretting blonde now gripping her shoulders. She patted her hands in assurance, though she prayed that they weren't shaking. "I just can't believe it is all."

That seemed to be the correct response, because Emily's face instantly melted into an expression of sheer joy.

"I know!" she cried, "I can't believe it either! I mean, I've been staring at the ring all morning, and it still doesn't feel real!"

She brought their attention to the shining diamond sparkling on her left ring finger. It was definitely beautiful in the way all the facets caught the light, glowing almost as brightly as the lights on the Grid. She shone just as bright as the ring, her whole body radiating light. All the cheery brightness was giving Quorra a headache.

Emily had gone back to her incessant babbling, causing a low drone to go off in Quorra's ear as she blocked out the sound of the words. Her own raging thoughts were loud enough as they tore through her mind. The idea of having to share Sam forever just sat wrong in her stomach, and the idea of him leaving her behind just made her want to curl up in a ball and die.

Was it too much for him, being around a computer program all the time? Did he need someone more human?

She was so attached to him, the one person who could really and completely understand her, and not just the human part of her, but the Grid part of her as well. Sam would look at her and see her for who she really was, programming and all, and he wouldn't care. She could be as open as she wanted with him, and she knew he would never judge, just as she would never judge him. She didn't have that with anyone else; she didn't want that with anyone else, and the idea of losing it was just too much for her to fathom.

"I love him."

Quorra regretted saying the words as soon as they flew out of her mouth. She had always had a bad problem of letting her ideas slip when she was thinking too hard, and this particular realization made her veins run cold. She stated it as she usually did: as a fact, but this one was whispered, almost a ghost of an idea that she was too afraid to admit to herself, none the less the woman he was going to spend forever with.

"Excuse me?"

She didn't miss the edge of anger riddling Emily's voice as she raised her confusion. It was then when Quorra realized just how badly she had messed up. Of course she couldn't have Sam all to herself now; he was Emily's to have. She had already lost him. The words she spoke, the way she felt was all null and void now as she yielded to the woman sitting tensely across from her. Quorra picked her next words carefully, returning to her impassive self with careful practice.

"I mean, I care about Sam very much. He's like a brother to me, my closest friend, my _only_ friend. And well, if he makes you happy and you make him happy… then I'm happy for you."

Quorra let out a strained breath as she finished the thought, ignoring the stabbing sensation poking at her heart with each lie she told. Her response seemed to assuage Emily, and her expression became open and cheerful once more.

"Thank you Quorra. That means so much, to both of us," she smiled warmly at her, genuinely touched at the sentiment.

She smiled as best as she could, and Emily rose to her feet, bouncing giddily on her heels. She left quickly, scampering around and talking about needing to tell her family. Quorra followed her reluctantly to the door and shut it softly behind her after many rushed and laugh-filled goodbyes on Emily's end.

Quorra sank to the floor, back up against the door, and stared into the vast, empty apartment. Alone.

It didn't take long for the tears to come. She'd gone to bed before Sam came home. He didn't even mention Emily once.


	5. Chapter 5

Fifth Time: Flying

The fifth time she said it, he never got the chance to hear.

They were having a fight. That's all they did now, he and Emily, was fight. Over and over until their voices could be heard from a mile away. They'd gotten calls from neighbors more than once about the noise, and it'd be a lie to say that the police were never called. They could be violent, things smashed and broken, fists thrown at Sam and screams hurled from both parties. It wasn't a fun time, and Quorra began to wonder if this was what forever was going to be like.

And the fights were always about the same thing. About her. Always about her.

Emily wanted Quorra gone. Ever since she had slipped up and confessed her feelings about Sam, Emily's feelings towards Quorra had gone from skeptical to accusatory. Everything Quorra did was reason for Emily to suspect that she was trying to steal Sam away. She wanted Quorra out of the apartment, even though it was half Quorra's and Emily was the guest.

But what stung worst was that Sam was starting to give into her.

Even now, Quorra could hear Emily's vitriolic words slicing into Quorra's pride and self-esteem. To make it worse, the rain was pouring against the windows, the thunder shaking the entire space, lightning flashing only long enough to catch glimpses of shadows with waving arms and mouths wide open to yell.

Quorra laid her head back against the kitchen cabinets where she had taken to hiding during these particularly bad storms, closing her eyes, desperately trying to block it all out. She honestly didn't know what was going to happen to her now. Sam seemed so wrapped around Emily's finger that anything was possible. She had already been banned from going out with Sam practically anywhere, and he had allowed Emily to cut Quorra off from all of his finances, so she was really only one step away from living on the street corner. Now, she knew that Alan would take her in; she had already told him about Sam and Emily's problems, but she hated relying on him so much. He was already paying for her expenses in Sam's wake, and even though all she really required were the basics, she didn't want to be a burden on him.

Another crash, but this time not thunder, shook her from her thoughts. She flinched as she picked up her name worked in with a string of other words she couldn't pick apart.

She was surprised to feel a tear running down her face. She had heard of crying before, and seen it far too many times to count, but she had never thought that she would ever have reason to. It was not a pleasant experience, her whole body clenching in and closing off until her lungs felt strangled and her eyes leaked salty beads of liquid.

She forced herself to calm and remain quiet. The one time she tried to defend herself in one of these she only caused a bigger fight. Emily stormed out, slamming doors, and Sam wouldn't talk to her for a week. Since then, she learned to lay low.

Just like usual. And it was misery.

She was miserable. Her life was not fun. Her life was not even tolerable. If this was how normal people lived, fighting and crying and screaming all the time, then she wanted no part of it.

There was a time when she and Sam were happy, but they were broken now. Life had broken them both, and Sam wasn't going to choose her in the end. He was going to pick someone else. Not her.

And the misery would end once she was gone, right? She was the cause of all this, so why didn't she just leave? It was clear she was not wanted. She hadn't been wanted for a while.

The world didn't need any more problems.

She didn't know where she would go or how she was going to get by, but she'd figure it out. One step at a time.

She pulled herself from the floor, softly padding across the polished wood, grabbing her boots and jacket from the sofa. Pulling them on, she stole the helmet off the shelf near the door and nabbed the keys to Sam's Ducati. She didn't even bother to look back when she left. No one would even notice that she was gone.

…

The roads were slippery and dark. She could feel the water on the pavement splash up on the bike, making it hard for her feet to get a grip on the rests. The rain poured down on her, stinging and slicing through her white knuckles and soaking her to the bone, the wind tearing through her, chilling her until she could hear her teeth chatter over the roar of the engine. She couldn't see through the fog in her helmet and the darkness surrounding her. The headlights of oncoming traffic were blinding.

She was driving blind.

She was going far too fast and she knew it. She just had to feel some connection to home, to the Grid where she could drive as fast and as far as she wanted. No rules, no restrictions, no conflictions. She just wanted to feel free, and she revved the engine faster, weaving and dodging the other vehicles as she soared.

And there was a nagging voice in the back of her head saying maybe, just maybe, if she let go, she'd feel a rush. Maybe, if she just let go, she'd feel a little more alive.

So she did let go. And she flew.

"I love you Sam…," she breathed out before the lights went out.

There was a faint sound of a crash in the distance, the memory of an impact, and the explicit sensation of being crushed into a million pieces. There was too much red. She didn't know what all this red was, but as it leaked from her, she felt her mind fuzz. Was this what it was like to be derezzed? Completely unattached, unfeeling, numb?

Sam would be so upset about his bike…she would have to apologize for that…

She had to believe that love was worth this. But it didn't feel that way. Love didn't feel worth it at all.

No, love was why she was there, lying on the ground, beaten and bleeding and…dying. She was dying, and tears slowly leaked out of her too blue eyes. She was ashamed; she had let Flynn down. Oh, if only he could see her now. She wondered if he would cry for her like he had done for all the other fallen ISOs. Would anyone cry for her?

_I'm sorry…_

Alive was too hard. Alive was too painful.

She wanted to be a program.


	6. Chapter 6

Sixth Time: Sam's Turn

The loud, sharp sound of ringing didn't even register to Sam the first time he heard it peel through the tense air in his apartment. It cut through the screaming, the waving of Emily's arms as if she was trying to swat away all their "problems". Jesus she was a nuisance these days! He wondered what the point in getting engaged to her even was. And he thought that she liked Quorra! They'd done a ton of stuff together over the months, and never once had Emily complained, but now she was some sort of problem? Sam just didn't understand.

He was just about to let the phone ring out, but decided last minute to pick it up, sauntering out of the room, hoping for the call to clear his head. Anything was better than this.

Anything except the voice on the other end of the line.

The words "car crash" and "hospital" and "fatal injuries" poured over him like waves of ice water, as if someone had opened the windows and let the storm in. He couldn't breathe; his lungs were paralyzed, as if a single movement would shatter his entire being, his tenuous and wavering composure. His mind was buzzing, sparking on overdrive as he tried to comprehend exactly what he was hearing, the truth of the matter too horribly unbelievable.

Quorra was dying.

And he could only blame himself. How could he have been so stupid?! She was so quiet; he had assumed that she had gone to sleep on the couch or something like she usually did when this was happening. She hated the fighting more than he did, but he never in a million years would've thought…

He chanced a glance around the apartment and noticed things missing. His helmet, the keys, her jacket, all gone, all overlooked by his carelessness. He though back to what the paramedic had said on the phone: cracked helmet was the only thing keeping her head from being split wide open, bike was totaled, hit by a tow truck, lots of blood…he cringed, shaking away images of her lying lifelessly on the pavement. It was bad enough when he thought she had derezzed on the Grid, her arm shattering into crystallized pieces. He couldn't stomach that again. He couldn't lose her, not like this, not after he had just lost his dad.

Before he knew it, he was fumbling for his spare pair of keys. He kept his Jag somewhere in the garage; now would be a good time to go find it. He didn't care what he was dressed in (a pair of athletic shorts and a white cotton tee) and he didn't care how he looked. He needed to go. He had to. It was like a force of nature was pulling him to Quorra. She needed him and he let her down. He failed to protect her. He had broken his promise to his father, and if she died because of it, then he wouldn't know how to live with himself. He could barely tolerate his actions so far.

He was just about half way out the door when Emily's clipped voice called out behind him, gluing him in place.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, her arms crossed over her chest.

"To the hospital. Quorra's been in an accident," he explained through controlled breaths, both because he was still nervous about Quorra's situation and because he was afraid of going off on Emily. A deep detest coursed through his body at the sound of her voice. She was just as responsible for this as he was, and the realization made his blood boil.

"You're not going," she stated firmly, leaning against the doorway.

He turned on her, incredulous. "Yes, I am. How could you even say that? I'm her _friend_. She _needs _me."

"If you walk out that door Sam, I won't be here when you come back," she claimed forcefully, her eyes wide to see how he would react to her ultimatum. "Do you hear me Sam? If you go to Quorra, we're done."

And he did react. His muscles tensed as if he were seriously considering staying, his hand still clenched but unmoving on the doorknob. He gritted his teeth, knowing what he had to do and what he needed to do. His whole heart was screaming "_go to Quorra!_", and he knew that she was more important than any relationship at the moment. Immediately, he knew the answer, and he was strangely at peace with the fallout.

He turned the knob and grabbed a raincoat from the rack, pulling it on as he reached behind to shut it closed.

"You can show yourself out," he snapped bitterly, not even bothering to relish in the complete shock he must've left Emily in as he slammed the door shut behind him loud enough for the whole complex to hear. He ground his teeth and bit down hard on his cheek, refusing to yield for the first time in forever. He placed one foot in front of the other, trying his best not to lose all control and run to the car.

And in her dramatic fashion (she was a model after all) Emily ran into the hallway after him, screaming and yelling threats and apologies all in one. They all sounded like a jumbled mess strewn together with tears and piercing shrieks of frustration. The neighbor opened his door and threatened to call the police, but that didn't stop her.

Sam didn't look back. He didn't reply. He kept walking, knowing that each step would bring him closer to Quorra. Closer to peace.

…

Time passed in a blur. Colors, murals of light bleeding together until they were all the same. Indistinguishable. Muddled by unseeing eyes.

Fast wasn't fast enough. He drove too slow, always too slow.

Quorra was driving too fast, he thought.

But Quorra was going to die if he wasn't fast enough.

Could she feel pain on the Grid? Could she feel pain now?

He pushed further, foot flat on the floor. He could feel his tires skid.

Was he flying too?

No, there was too much noise. Too much silence to be noise. His heart beat too loudly. Too fast. No such thing as too fast.

Flying was supposed to be peaceful.

Was Quorra at peace?

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he swerved and dodged and weaved through the tunnels of color.

Too slow.

…

He must've missed the ambulance. She wasn't there when he ran in, stumbling through the front lobby of the hospital. He caused quite a scene, stammering with wide eyes about a car crash. Even the nurses were wary of him.

Until he told them her name.

They gave him the most pathetic, pitying glances. He hated them. But he needed to know what they meant. Was she alright? Was she going to make it? Would she be okay?

Is she even alive?

But all they did was smile. They smiled and patted his shoulder, telling him to be patient as they called the doctor about her. He didn't want to be patient. He didn't want to wait around for a call to tell him whether or not the most important person in his life was still breathing.

It was an intense paranoia that gripped at his heart, squeezing it until he felt as if he would collapse. He realized that he couldn't do it. If she was dead, he didn't know if he could do it, this whole 'living' thing, and the realization shocked him into place. He depended on her so much; she was the one constant, the rock he relied on to always be there even when everything else was shot to hell. What would there be left to live for without that? He'd be loveless and friendless, and that was no life he wanted to be part of.

But the nurses were still all smiles and sunshine as they told him to follow them. He obeyed without hesitation as they led him down what felt like miles worth of halls, the smell of antiseptic nauseating and the white walls illuminated by florescent lights blinding, until finally he was led into the one place he needed to be all along.

But once again, he was at a loss on how to react.

She was breathing. She was alive, and that in itself was enough to make him fall to his knees in thanks. But the woman in front of him was a stranger, a shadow of a shell of the woman he knew, covered in bandages and adorned with a million different probes and sensors and tubes, all beeping and keeping her alive, for now. She was connected, and he supposed that the irony of the situation was something to laugh at, even if it was through locked jaws and stinging eyes.

She was so broken. She looked so fragile and pale. He was frightened to even enter the room out of fear that he may shatter her. But he went, one foot after the other, automatically, not stopping until his shins hit the metal bedpost with a screaming sting.

The nurses called out to him, listing diagnoses like 'severe concussion', 'fractured sternum', 'broken ribs', 'shattered femur', and 'internal bleeding'. It all came in as a jumbled mess. It all felt like being run through with a jagged blade.

His legs failed him. He had to sit, and he stumbled back into a chair, chest heaving, hands running though his hair, fingers threatening to rip it all out in frustration.

This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening, not to her. Anyone but her.

He reached out and took one of her pale hands and clasped it in his own, heart clenching at the coldness of her skin. He lowered his lips to the bridge of her knuckles, avoiding the IV needle placed there, and placed a small kiss. He dropped his head to the side of the bed, trying his best not to completely break down.

"Please," he whispered, so low that he could barely here himself. A prayer. "Please, Quorra. Don't do this. For me, please, just…wake up…"

His hand was still clasped with hers when he finally gave way to sleep.

…

He awoke to blue, a pair of tired yet beautiful blue eyes staring down at him in both awe and happiness. He had to take a double take, leaning back to rub his own eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining anything. But he wasn't. She was sitting up in that bed as composed as she could be, a little smile forming at the corners of her lips as she greeted him silently.

He nearly had a heart attack.

"You're awake," he gasped, letting go of a large, shuddering breath. "Oh, thank God, you're alive."

It was as if some burden was lifted off of his chest, like the lead weight in his stomach had been lessened. Not gone, nowhere close to being gone, but lessened drastically.

Her eyes searched his face, confused and slightly upset. She looked so distressed in the moment, as if she was trying to work through a million things at once and her mind wouldn't let her.

"Sam…" she tried, her voice dry and cracking, "what…where…," but he shushed her. He placed another kiss to her knuckles, pressing so hard that his lips went white. He was trying his best not to break down, but his resolve was slowly weathering away. She was so weak...

_His fault. This was his fault._

"Shh, shh it's okay," he told her, somehow more for his sake than for hers, voice trembling. "You're at the hospital. You're fine. You're going to be fine. I promise."

She nodded jerkily as she seemed to take that information in, but she was still confused. He looked up at her with such sadness that it made her even more skeptical. And there was something else in his gaze that she could not identify. Fear? Inquisition? Devotion? There was a long moment of silence and intense staring before Sam spoke.

"Quorra…" he started after much internal debate, "do you remember what…happened last night?"

His voice caught midway through, and he had to recompose himself. He had to stay strong, for her sake. No need to get her more worked up than she already was.

She thought about his question and forced herself to delve deep into her memory, something that was particularly painful at the moment. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember what had happened.

And she did. She remembered everything, every gruesome, painful second in perfect frame-by-frame recognition. It was like watching a horror movie, and her eyes flew open, tears springing up in their wake, burning their way down her cheeks.

She was so mortified, so absolutely ashamed of her behavior. How could Sam sit next to her, stand to touch her or even be around her, after everything she had put him through last night? Even now her cheeks flushed in shame, and she shied away from him, turning her head, not wanting to see the aftermath of her handiwork.

But Sam wasn't having any of that. He refused to let her turn away from him. He had wasted enough time neglecting her, of leaving her alone in her unspoken misery, and he swore to himself that he would never make her feel like that again. She deserved better from him. He wanted her to want better.

"Quorra, please answer me. Do you remember?"

It was almost unbearable, asking a second time, but what really tore his soul to shreds was the look of utter shame and defeat that crossed over her face before she replied. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes."

"Then why-" he had to stop himself from losing control. He could feel his anger rising in his throat, dying to be unleashed, but he couldn't let it go, not for one second. He started again, clearing his voice. "Quorra, why would you be so reckless?"

_How could you be so stupid? What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if you just...died?_

All the unspoken questions that raged in his mind remained where they were...for now. Now, he just needed to know why.

"I didn't mean to..."

Sam let out a strangled breath, allowing his anger to pulse just a little. But it didn't last long. One look at her face, so broken and so weary, and he crumbled again.

"I know...I know..."

She was on the brink of tears, and he could see her throat bobbing up and down in a vain attempt to swallow the sobs building there.

"I didn't mean to be a burden," she managed, turning away again.

Sam's heart broke as he reached for her, pulling her back in reassurance.

"No, Quorra. How could you even think that?"

"You and Emily fight...all the time...about me...I didn't mean to..." she was speaking in broken fragments, but he guilt in her meaning ate away at his soul. He felt disgusted with himself, for making her think that she was so small, such a horrible person, when it was the furthest thing from the truth.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I never should've let Emily do those things. I know that. I was just so caught up in work and her...and...God, I don't even know. I was a jerk, a complete ass, and you have every right to hate me. I'm so sorry Quorra. It's my fault, all of it."

She managed a small nod, closing her eyes, squeezing out the beads of liquid pooling in the corners there. He held her as close as he could, his hand on hers, the other brushing softly through her hair, pulling her in so that their foreheads almost touched. She didn't touch him back though. She was cautiously still, her whole body tensed, and he knew that if he let go, she'd immediately pull away. That stung worse than he thought it would, even though he knew that she was justified in never wanting him near her again.

Slowly, she did pull away and he let her, her head turning to the window.

"I want to go home," she whispered pathetically, like a homesick child.

"As soon as the doctors give the OK, we can go back to the apartment. I'm sure that Alan would love-"

"No. I want to go home. To the Grid."

Sam took one look at her and knew she meant what she had said. She looked at him with wide eyes, practically pleading with him to accept what she was saying. And there was fear too, fear over something he did not know. And then it clicked. Fear of living. She didn't feel safe here anymore. He had broken her faith in him.

"Quorra, you don't know what it's like there anymore. It could be dangerous. You don't know-"

"Yes, I do."

He stared at her for a few moments, like finally something about all her time spent away from him was making sense. He looked at her and realized that, for the first time, that she hadn't been completely honest with him either.

"And how do you know that Quorra?"

It was a test plain and simple, and Quorra knew it. But she was too weary to care.

"I've been rebuilding it, with Alan."

She didn't say anything more than that. She didn't have to. Sam could fill in the blanks.

"So, all that time you've been spending together, you've been going behind my back and going into the Grid? Even after knowing what it had done to you and my dad? How dangerous it can be?"

He was starting to fume, even though he knew that this was the worst time to start a fight. Quorra seemed to ruffle at his words, injecting venom into her voice.

"In case you've forgotten, this world is not mine. You and Flynn dragged me here. I've lived on the Grid my entire life. I was created there. I think I know how to handle myself."

"Yeah, obviously," Sam spat, gesturing to all of Quorra and her now broken state. She ruffled more, but didn't say anything.

He let his rage boil down, knowing that fighting her would get him nowhere. And really, he wasn't too upset at her for going into the Grid. Hell, he would've been surprised if she hadn't tried to do anything stupid like that at some point. It was the fact that she lied to him. The fact that she didn't trust him enough to tell him what she was doing.

"Quorra, why didn't you tell me? I...I could've helped."

"You were a little preoccupied at the time," she spat, though there was less and less venom with each word, hurt replacing it over time.

And fresh waves of guilt crashed over him. Was he really so much of a self-absorbed jerk that he had missed so much of Quorra's life because of Emily. He knew that he had lost more time with her, but he didn't really know that he had let so much fade away. It was almost as if he were talking to a stranger whose life he knew nothing about - like they were starting over - and the thought made his stomach roil with regret.

He didn't want her to go. Not now that he had so much to mend. He didn't want her to go back to the Grid, never to return. The thought of her walking away forever, her back to him and to the life they had, paralyzed him. He didn't want her to leave him. He couldn't let her leave him.

"Quorra," he started, trying to steady his breathing. "you don't have to make this decision now. At least think about it."

"I've made up my mind."

"And you're sure? You really want to leave..." he couldn't stop himself from feeling crushed. He wondered if she could feel it too.

"Why do you care so much Sam? I thought you'd be happy. Now you and Emily can be together, alone, just like you wanted."

"Is that what you think? That I'll be happier without you?"

He was genuinely hurt at her ignorance, and cursed himself for ever letting her think that she wasn't worth having around. His list of regrets seemed to go on for miles, all of them under the name of 'Quorra'.

"Isn't it?" she asked, her voice small, but not in the least accusatory.

"No, God no Quorra. If you leave, I'll be the most unhappy person in the whole damned world."

"But...Emily...the fighting..."

"Emily is a jealous bitch. I should've left her a long time ago. I just didn't realize it because I've had my head so far up my ass that I couldn't think straight. And I cannot express how much I regret letting my mistakes hurt you," he took Quorra's hand in his and stared at them, because at the moment, he just couldn't stand to look in her eyes and see what emotion lied there. "I've taken advantage of you time and time again. I'd always thought that you'd be there, no matter what, and I see now that I've been wrong about that too. But you have to know that - that I'd choose _you_ over anyone else in this whole damned world. Every time. My life would be pointless without you.

"I know a long time ago I said that you didn't love me. And at the time, I thought that was true. I was grieving my dad and I was still terrified about what had happened on the Grid. I didn't know what was going on, and I just wanted something _normal_. So, when you said that, I just shut down. I didn't want to confront anything, didn't even want to think about messing something else up. I had just found you, and I was so terrified about losing you, the one good thing that came out of that horrible nightmare. But, I did love you Quorra. I really did...and I still do. I was just so _scared,_ and I was sure that you didn't feel the same - placing me in the same category as apples - so I moved on, or I tried. But I know now that that was stupid, because the whole way here, all I could think about was you, how lost I'd be without you. You are everything to me."

He chanced a glance upward, fully prepared for rejection or hatred, but instead was faced with more tears. Quorra was crying, but in a whole other way this time. There was relief in those tears, joy in those tears, _love_ in those tears. A year's worth of unshed emotion left her body, making her feel light and happy because, after all this time, Sam Flynn loved her too. And that overwhelming notion left her feeble heart exhausted.

She fell forward, leaning into Sam's opened embrace ready to catch her teetering frame. He could feel her breath slow and steady and oh so _alive_ on his neck. He buried his nose into her hair regardless of how greasy it was, of the fact that he could still smell the asphalt smoke, but beneath all that was a layer that was so very Quorra, and it locked in his throat. Just the thought of being without that scent was enough to break him.

"Sam…" she purred into his chest, the vibrations sending small shivers down his spine.

"Hmm?" he asked, not able to form coherent thoughts after that large speech. The fact hit him that Quorra had yet to voice her opinion on the matter, and the possibility of the next words being her rejection disrupted all previous thoughts of love and peace.

But he didn't have to worry for long. The next words made him the luckiest man on the planet.

"I don't want to go…don't make me..." she mumbled, nearing unconsciousness once more. "I want to stay…with you…"

"Of course," he assured her, rubbing small circles on her back as he felt her nodding off. "I want that too."

She was so close to sleep that it was practically adorable the way her warrior senses were fighting her still-newfound biology for control. She wanted to stay awake so badly, he could tell, if not to revel in the moment then to assure herself that she was not lucid dreaming. She could not have this be another dream, and the realization of this made Sam only hold her tighter.

He was never letting her go ever again.

"I love you," he murmured into her ear, soft as a whisper, meant only for her to hear.

She placed her hand briefly over his heart before she let her mind shut down, her limbs becoming detached and limp. He guided her back on the bed, her head landing softly on the pillows. He was staring at her with such affection that she couldn't help the warm fuzzy feeling from returning to her stomach, sending her waves of euphoria that dulled the sharp pain emanating from everywhere else.

Curiousity getting the better of her, she raised a hand to his face, her drunken fingers tracing daftly along his jaw line, feeling the coarse texture of the stubble that lined the edges of his mouth.

_Unshaved,_ she remarked to herself. Not enough time to raze, something was too urgent...He was worried about her.

Her eyes lazily studied his.

_Sparkling and red-rimmed_, she noted. He had cried for her.

He would've missed her. He always would've, and she was a fool not to realize it sooner. He had always loved her, and how much time she had wasted in believing his lies from the start. How much time they had wasted!

How much time they still had left…

She was alive for a reason, after all.

"I love you too…"

A ghost of a phrase muttered from hazy lips met ears that were eager and ringing.

The last thing she saw before she fell into blackness was the smile that lit Sam's face from ear to ear, like the sun was shining from within him, breaking the cold of insecurity and warming him. She felt that warmth all around her, on her hand as she felt it grasp at her, her fingers entwining with the sun itself.

And it was perfect.


End file.
